


Bygone Burden

by penelopea



Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Fantasy, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-09 12:50:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3250319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penelopea/pseuds/penelopea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wirt is back from the Unknown, but he left something precious behind... and, with Sara, maybe he can bring it back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mischief_unmanag3d](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mischief_unmanag3d/gifts).



"Greg?"

He was gone, he was lost-

"Greg? Where are you? Greg?"  
He couldn't see anything, feel anything, only the cold, the branches pulling him back. He was-

He was in his room.

Wirt stared up at the ceiling for a moment before retrieving his covers from the floor where they had fallen, subjecting him to the drafty coldness of his room. Huddled under the covers, he glanced over at his little, blue radio. 5:38. He could go back to sleep.

He closed his eyes and lay there, awake, until the sudden sound of the alarm pulled him from the bed.

As he rifled through his drawers for a sweater, prepared for the cold spell that was to set in today, he came across it. The hat, still stained with dirt, dark red and balled up in the furthest corner. With it, he remembered his dream, his nightmare, from last night.

He had no fear of The Beast, not anymore. Wirt knew he had uncovered The Beast's incredible, almost pitiable, weakness. The screams of the shadowed creature, the glowing of its eyes. It was all too real to be doubted. The Beast was gone.

Then why had he come back alone?

The boy shook his head, pulling his woolen socks onto his feet and standing. He hated moments like these, moments when the memories took him away from this world, took him back to the guilt and fear of the end of the journey through those woods. He slid out of his room, wood floor slippery underneath his socks, and walked to the kitchen to fix a quick breakfast before catching the bus. The silence of the morning pressed in on him like a vise, forbidding forgetfulness.

There was nothing he could do.

Greg was gone.

Drowned in the river, killed by The Beast, gone.

Gone so that Wirt could be here.

He grabbed some toast, picked up his pack, and walked down to the bus stop.

School had been different ever since the accident. Students who he barely knew were kinder to him, teachers gentler with him, as if afraid he would break at the slightest raised voice, the simplest questions.

Yet, somehow, it seemed as though there were a wall around him.

He understood. People didn't know what to say, didn't know how to act, around the quiet kid whose cute little brother had gone missing, somehow gone so quickly when he survived with only a few broken ribs and bruises.

"Wirt!"

"Hey, Sara."

It was another cold day. Sara shivered, zipping her jacket up to her chin, and burying her frigid hands in her pockets. She was close enough to school to walk, and usually didn't mind, but on days like this…

But, hey, at least it made the prospect of arriving to the warm, early morning class more inviting.

As her hands plunged deeper into her pockets, she felt something- a small, smooth corner. A tape.

She laughed quietly. That's right. She hadn't listened to it yet, that new tape that Wirt had given her. Of course, she didn't have any way to play it, generally relying on computers and CDs like any other classmate.

Wirt was just a weird kid.

She'd always liked him, though.

Poor Wirt.

She had been there, that night. People often asked her about it, what she'd seen. Of course, she had not even arrived in time to see them fall into the water. By the time she had scrambled down the steep slope, only Wirt was there, collapsed on the edge of the riverbank.

She, like everyone else, assumed Greg would be found someday, further down the river…

The site of the brick building, surrounded by chattering students, distracted her from delving to deeply into the dark thoughts surrounding that night, and she raced towards the open doors. She was early- the busses, always arriving ahead of schedule, had already pulled up and released their hordes of students.

Peering over the colorful hats of bundled up high schoolers, she saw him. He was walking alone- he claimed to know nobody on his bus route- hunched over from the weight of his bag.

"Wirt!"

He looked up to her, a quick smile plastered on his face. "Hey, Sara."

She weaved her way through the crowd until she reached his side. He looked down, tired. As though he'd had a bad day, though it was only 7:45 in the morning.

"You have… history class now, right? I'll go with you- I actually need to ask Ms. DeWitt about an assignment she gave me. The homework from that class is ridiculous…"

On days like this, she would often fill their silence with her words, however shallow or boring they seemed. It seemed as though Wirt appreciated the mindless distraction, and Sara was confident she would be able to tell if her presence irked him.

Her fingers touched the tape resting in her pocket.

She wondered, in the back of her mind, how stupid it would be to mention it, to bring back memories from the night she had found it in her pocket, and never had a chance to ask him about it. Her curiosity got the better of her.

"By the way… I found a tape in my pocket. Jenny told me it was from you." Wirt froze. She plowed on, "But I don't have a tape player…"

Her turned to her with an exaggeratedly horror-struck expression on his face. "Oh, uh, yeah, that." A hesitation, and a sheepish smile, "I was wondering if I could have that back, actually."

She grinned. "What's on it?"  
"It's…" He paused again, failing to find a way to avoid her question, "of course you don't have a tape player. I have one at home. But, maybe we can just… work up to this tape. Listen to it a little bit later."

"Sure."

Whatever was on it, Sara was positive Wirt's horrified embarrassment was an overreaction. Still. He obviously wasn't ready for her to hear it yet.

The idea of what must be on it made her smile. She couldn't help but feel a bit regretful handing back to him, watching him hastily stow it away in his backpack's side pocket.

"Sorry, I just, it was dumb- I'll talk to you later." They had reached the classroom door, and a wave of kids was ushering him inside.

"Wait, Wirt!" Something about the way he carried himself today, something about his tired eyes, made her ask, "Can I come over after school today? Somehow soccer practice hasn't been cancelled, though it's, like, 2 degrees outside. Hanging out in your room sounds a lot more appealing."

He seemed surprised. "Yeah, sure."

"I'll meet you after school!"

"Okay."  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Author's Note!

Hey guys! Yeah, I'm going to try writing a story. Like an actual, longer than one page story. Crazy stuff! Not sure how it's going to turn out, I've never attempted something like it. I'll see where it takes me!  
I couldn't decide whether to go from just Wirt's POV, just Sara's, or to switch. If you have suggestions for that, I'd be totally open to hearing what you'd like to see for the rest of the tale.


	2. Chapter 2

The first time she entered his room was decidedly awkward. Having not expected the visit, Wirt had failed to realize until Sara entered what state his room was in- old teacups on every shelf, papers covering all surfaces, some worn clothes scattered on the floor, Surreptitiously, he kicked a pair of boxers under his bed as she entered. He looked up as Sara grinned. Well. She had totally seen that.

"So… yeah. This is it."

"Cool."

She was making the rounds, reading the papers pasted to his walls, smiling at the old train set he still kept set out on his table.

It was weird, having someone else in here.

Of course, he had been to other's homes before, seen other's rooms, but practically never invited others to his own.

He enjoyed it more than he expected.

And, thankfully, she continued to invite herself over. At first, there would always be some sort of excuse- She wanted to study with someone for the upcoming test, she had questions from that day's English readings, she wanted to spend some time away from her moms for a while- but, eventually, Sara's presence became an unannounced at unquestioned part of his life. Wirt had the distinct impression that she was, in a way, looking out for him. He wanted to mind, to be annoyed by the idea that he would need someone like that, but he couldn't me. There was no denying it.

He sighed, staring up at the splotched paint on his ceiling, dimly lit by the slowly rising sun.

After all this, he still liked her.

It was almost enough to make him happy. To make him forget. But he never would.  
Times like these, it came flashing back to him. That last night in the Woods. Wirt had woken up, cold, embraced by leaves and vines that constricted around his arms, his legs, his neck and chest. And Greg was gone.

He could tell his brother had not simply wandered off that time.

He ran for him, called for him. Slipped through the ice. By the time Beatrice's family had saved him, by the time he reached the glade which held The Woodsman and The Beast, it had been too late.

For, in the center, he saw only a sapling. Beatrice was calling his name. Then, darkness, as the lantern went out.

Next thing he knew, he was crawling out of the river, and later awoke in the hospital to the tear stained face of his mother. He asked where Greg was.

His brother, she told him, was gone.

But the vines, the vines, when he awoke that night in the forest, they had been taking him, swallowing him into the tree. They had wanted him, not his brother.

He knew. It was his fault, all his fault. He hadn't been a good leader. Nothing like little, naïve, infinitely hopeful Greg.

The little sapling in the snow.

But The Beast was gone.

Wirt sat up, turning to stare out his window. He knew what he had to do.

He had to go back.

He would bring Greg home.

Switching on his bedside light, Wirt jumped out of his bed, before the most important, the most obvious, question occurred to him. He froze.

He knew, of course, to climb over the wall. But what next?

No, it didn't matter. He would figure it out. He would… he would just have to do the same thing.

He laughed quietly to himself as he changed into his clothes. This was ridiculous. Stupid. As if he could find the way back simply by showing up there.

But he had to try.

As he opened his closet door, searching for a coat, he saw it. The cape, the old, vintage cape from the attic, a single, autumn leaf still stuck to the shoulder. For some reason, he put it on, and, before walking out the door turned back with a sigh and grabbed his hat. It just… felt right, like a uniform.

He stood in his room for a moment, suddenly tempted to drop this harebrained scheme, to take off this dumb outfit and crawl back in bed.

But Greg was waiting for him.

He buttoned up the collar of his cape.

"Back to the Unknown…"


	3. Chapter 3

It was one of those days when it seemed that the sun never came up. The clouds were thick and grey, completely covering the sky.

Sara shivered, wishing she had worn something warmer over her old leather jacket. It had not been the day to skimp out on that large, puffy marshmallow coat she had received last winter. She pulled her hat further over her ears, and marched on to the cemetery.

Though it was one of the busier days of the week, a Saturday, it was early, and people tended to stay indoors when the weather was so dreary. That was the way she liked it- when she visited, she wanted to be alone.

Which is why she didn't call out to Wirt when she spied him walking resolutely up the main path.

She stopped for a moment, staring. He was wearing that outfit, that costume, from Halloween night. The one with the dorky hat and old cape. The one he had worn last time he came here…

That's when she realized; it had been a month since that night.

He had been wearing that during the last time he saw his brother. Maybe it was some sort of mourning thing?

She was going to leave him alone, assuming that he, like her, wanted to be by himself when visiting the graves- though Greg, still desperately assumed missing, did not have one yet- when she saw. He was climbing the tree. The tall one, with far-hanging branches that stretched over the wall.

Oh, no.

Just when she was beginning to think he was doing better.

What was he thinking? That after all this time, after all those searches, the days when the cemetery was brightly lit by police cars and flashlights and full of the sounds of authorities yelling Greg's name, that he, Wirt, would be able to find his step-brother today?

She sighed, dropping her small bouquet next to a random grave. She could get a new one for it's intended recipient later. She couldn't let him wander around alone, especially not on a dismal day like today.

By the time she began to walk along the path, frozen mud crunching loudly under her boots, he had already disappeared behind the tall wall.

"Wirt?"  
Only silence.  
It seemed she would have to go after him. Resigned, she grasped onto the low-hanging branches of the tree, pulling herself up to the top. And there he was, a little ways up the ancient, abandoned train tracks, his back facing her. Not searching, not calling out Greg's name, but just standing there. Waiting.

For what?

It was then that she heard it. The distant whistle of a train. But these tracks were old, going nowhere and leading nowhere, remnants of some past town that had long since been abolished. There was no way…

But there it was.  
Heading towards Wirt.

No, no, no. He wasn't moving.

Shit.

Before she could think, she jumped from the wall, landing hard before running towards the boy. The train, black and menacing, was so close…

And it went barreling by as she sat up in the brown, dead grass, Wirt massaging his shoulder where he fell beside her.

"Sara? What are you… Why are you here?"

Was that really the most pertinent question to ask right now? "I..." Her voice was shaking, the adrenaline rush fading. She had to pause, take a moment, before trying to speak over the sound of the long, loud train still roaring past them, "I saw you, you were just standing there on the tracks, and the you weren't moving-"

His mouth dropped open, forming an "o" shape that she knew would have made her smile in any other situation, and he shook his head vehemently, "Oh, my god, no," his eyes slid to the ground, "no, I was just trying to…"

It was then that it happened, and they both turned. Steam billowed around them as the wheels screeched loudly, forcing Sara to clamp her hands over her ears. The train had stopped, one of its many passenger cars resting in front of them. They both gaped at it with wide eyes.  
"Wirt."

"Yeah?"

"What is going on?"

"Um…" Wirt 's voice was filled with wonder, and, strangely enough, relief. Sara looked over to him. Slowly, he was standing on his feet, staring at the train car's door. "I think… I can just get on the train."

"You can just… get on the train." Okay. Alright. "Why would you get on the train."

Without looking her way, he bent down, picking up his fallen hat from the ground and putting in back over his messy hair with a determined tug. "I'm going to bring my brother back."

With that, without looking her way, he walked up the steps to the door, cape billowing in the wind.

Wirt. He acted like he was so shy, but he really did always have a flair for the dramatic.

Sara watched as he closed the door behind him, and knew what she needed to do. She stood up and grasped the handles, yanking them open hurriedly. Whatever crazy thing he was doing now, she wasn't going to let him go alone.

He turned at the sound of the car's door opening. "Wait, I don't know if you really should-"

With a loud blow of the whistle, the car jolted underneath their feet, cutting of his words as the grabbed to the back of a seat for support.  
The car was nice enough, rows of seats lined with soft, red velvet, large windows revealing the woods passing by in a blur. But, somehow, it was totally foreboding. They were completely alone.

She wondered if this had been such a good idea after all.


End file.
